


Deadlock

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Demons, Fade Dreams, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, depends how you look at it, eventual happy ending (maybe)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only ever happens in the Fade. // Cullen won't give up on Dorian, even if he's under threat of becoming an abomination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dorian

**Author's Note:**

> Story may be fairly depressing. You've been warned.  
> (sorry)

It only ever happens in the Fade.

It must be the Maker's twisted present for Dorian, sending Cullen to him when he dreams. As if Dorian hasn't been through enough torment in one lifetime already.

The Fade's favorite color is a murky olive. It coats the sky like venom, clouds dripping green like wax. Occasionally, when it rains, it pours, and the dark aura over the muddled dreamscape lightens slightly afterwards, fresh with the smell of blood. 

When bored, Dorian speculates what taints this side of the world so much. Maybe it's all the corrupt minds that visit, feeding the demons. That theory makes him wonder why whenever Cullen comes to him, his magic flares up in power and he feels like he can rip the Veil if he tries.

He doesn't recall when it first started, but he knows that this is how it goes. Cullen will show up and the world will shudder, transforming into a place Dorian may or may not recognize. 

"Commander," Dorian greets in Cullen's own room, "here to visit again?"

Cullen never speaks much, and when he does, it's usually a string of apologies, a familiar torrent of guilt washing over Dorian. It's not enough to purge his sins. 

"You needn't apologize, Cullen. It's not your fault, Amatus," Dorian says (pleads). 

Cullen never believes Dorian's words. "Yes it is. Maker save me," he says, and he'll lean forward to capture his lips, breathing him in like a dying man, ironically so. 

They kiss like they're on fire. Heat pools in Dorian, desire burning cruelly as he pulls Cullen down with him. 

"Come on," Dorian urges, lips falling open in a gasp as Cullen fucks him, more roughly than Dorian imagined before. "Cullen," he moans.

Cullen never says his name. He also never asks what _amatus_ means. 

Dorian laughs bitterly and kisses him. 

**=o=O=o=**

Epiphanies are supposed to be inspiring, not depressing.

"You're afraid of me," Dorian accuses. It makes a horrid sense, why Dorian feels like he has so much raw power around Cullen. The Fade feeds on fear, after all.

Cullen winces and averts his gaze. "No." He looks fixedly at the lake before them. 

The lake does not reflect the dullness of the sky. Instead, it shines beautifully in a manner that prickles Dorian's eyes should he look at it. In that, looking at the lake is a lot like looking at Cullen. 

"Of mages, rather," he amends, and surprisingly, the difference doesn't comfort him much. It's still Dorian whom Cullen is afraid of. This time, Cullen does not deny it.

( _In another life, Dorian might ask why, and Cullen might tell him why. He might also offer a coin to Dorian, who would be confused as to why someone would want to gift him something precious like that. After listening raptly, Dorian would huff and_ _summon a flower at his fingertips, petals welded from frost, small and delicate, and he'd show Cullen how to not fear magic._ _)_

Cullen picks up a pebble and flicks it across the lake. The water ripples.

Dorian stares, morbidly mesmerized. Across from them, memories of soldiers dying fill the land, war crying and dying the lake a bloody red.

Cullen used to try to save them. Dorian's selfishly glad he's stopped, although the darkness in his eyes grows with each visit. 

You can't save everything, after all. Especially not the past.

**=o=O=o=**

 

Once, Cullen slams the door of the library shut behind him and presses Dorian onto the wall, knocking down several bookcases in the process.  

"Ah, Cullen, aren't we eager--"

"Dorian," Cullen says, and Dorian chokes in surprise, shuddering, eyes going wide. It's--never happened before, this acknowledgement. It hurts, presses upon an old wound too harshly. Dorian grimaces in pain. 

"What--"

"Don't leave me," Cullen whispers into Dorian's neck, and Dorian swallows, feeling Cullen shake. 

"I'm right here, Amatus. I'm not going anywhere," he says, which is true.

For once, Cullen believes him. He relaxes into Dorian's hold, and his erratic breathing steadies slowly. 

They don't fuck that night. There's a word more tender for what they do, but if Dorian says it everything might fall apart again, so he never does. 

**=o=O=o=**

Eventually, Cullen stops praying for the Maker to save him. 

**=o=O=o=**

Dorian wishes he'd let himself fall before the world did, because now it's beyond pointless and just hurts too much.

**=o=O=o=**

It only ever happens in the Fade, because out of it, Dorian is powerless, but an echo of the past. 

Cullen stares at the game of chess in front of him. It's still left in the way it had been a lifetime ago. 

Just more unfinished business between them. A true deadlock. 

Somewhere above the garden, a crow caws mournfully.

 _You stubborn man_ , Dorian speaks, but nothing comes out.  _Just topple my king. It's over_.

Cullen doesn't. His fingers tremble over his temples, digging down in hopes of soothing a haunting headache, but he doesn't look away from the board. He's seeing something Dorian cannot, lips murmuring words Dorian can't bear to hear. They reopen his wounds, bleeding his heart dry. By now, his heart should have withered and shriveled up.

If only Dorian could reach over. He wants to hug Cullen and hold on tight, wants to kiss him under the sunlight and see him happy, tell him it's going to be okay.

Dorian doesn't.

He can't.

The only thing he can do is watch and wait for the day Cullen finally forgets him (in more ways than one). Maybe then, they will both find solace, because whatever this is, it isn't enough to fill the eternal rift between them.

 _Amatus_ , he whispers, and Cullen smiles hopefully then, eyes a touch too bright to be natural, looking forward like he can see him.  

( _"You cheat," Cullen says. "And you are not as subtle as you think you are."_

_"Ah, but Commander," Dorian explains, "these are Tevinter rules."_

_"Why do you have a rule to cheat when you play chess?" Cullen inquires dryly._

_"In the Imperium, there's a rule to cheat when you do everything," Dorian says. "You simply cannot survive otherwise. It would be cute, albeit tragic, should you ever find yourself in the Imperium in a sea of sharks."_

_"How about you win a game against me first before sentencing me to such torment?"_

_Dorian sniffs, to which Cullen laughs warmly. "Very well.")_

Dorian _can't_.

He retreats back into the Fade, where at least he can believe the illusion of happiness (the happiness Cullen is most terrified of for it to manifest in the Fade, how can that be; oh what temptation he has fallen to) instead of wanting to die all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh maker im sorry...
> 
> the other half is soon to come (from cullen's point of view;;) come join me on tumblr! I'd love to chat, etc etc: evocamint


	2. Cullen

The dread that festers with waiting slowly gnaws on Cullen every time the Inquisitor ventures on a quest with a party.

It's an unease amplified whenever she takes Dorian. To be fond of someone, especially someone like Dorian, who burns so brightly—sometimes with literal flames, with his flashy skills and whatnot—and in a time like this, when every day is a day closer to the end?

It's most foolish on Cullen's part. Like a moth drawn to light.

While the fate of the Inquisition soldiers may depend on what training and advice Cullen gives, at the end of the day, the Inquisition relies on the Inquisitor.

Whether what's to come is the end of the world's suffering or the end of the world remains to be determined.  
He has faith in her, though, otherwise he wouldn't be here as an advisor.

But that also means Cullen has no control over what happens out there. He can only wait and pray for the best.

It's been a fortnight since the Inquisitor left on an operation with Varric, the Iron Bull, and Dorian. The only letter the party has sent back—or perhaps simply the only one they've received without interception—is an ominous one, inking the short, cryptic words: _we found them_ _._

Cullen knows perfectly well how adept a mage Dorian is. He should be fine. There is no use pondering over what could be. He's no use to the Inquisition distracted like this. 

Leliana calls his name, and he turns to find her by the door. Silent, watching. Cullen wonders how long she's been here, if she's come to watch on him before. 

Her eyes flicker down to the blank report he's been writing up for the past hour or so. He's not sure how long it's been since nightfall. Winter makes it difficult to tell time. Cold, too, without the ambient heat from magic surrounding him.

Cullen waits for Leliana to make a teasing comment.

"Tell me you're here to warn me of Sera's prank again," Cullen says, once Leliana's reluctance becomes evident. 

She doesn't smile, and Cullen braces himself for the worst. "They're back," she personally informs him with a pinch to her brows, which means they're not back _whole_.

_Please don't let it be Dorian._

Leliana's lips thin regretfully. "It's Dorian."

Cullen stares at her.

"What...happened?"

"I don't know," the spymaster confesses, and that says more than any other response could. "See for yourself."

The party should've returned as usual with a slew of ridiculous stories. The Inquisitor would explain how they'd been expanding the Inquisition's influence over Thedas, while her companions expose the truth of how she gets terribly sidetracked by her altruism, helping everyone they can.

These thoughts don't help quell Cullen's worry, so he moves on to preparing himself for anything as he rushes out of his office. 

The healer, far from the blood-stained bed, bars Cullen from going too close when she notices him. 

"What are you  _doing_?" he demands the soldiers who hold Dorian down.

"It's dangerous," the healer explains. "We have to monitor the threat level."

This isn't monitoring. This is actively suppressing him. 

Dorian is not an _it_ , so why do they say that? Cullen's throat constricts as recognition dawns. His distress must show somehow in his eyes because the healer widens hers in surprise--the rumors of him being close to the Tevinter mage prove true then--then sympathy, because too late now. She keeps quiet.

The air is thick with a sickness unnatural to this world, but not unfamiliar to him. If lyrium calls to Cullen like an alluring, melodic song in all its false glory, then the presence of demons is all scratchy whispers in the back of the mind, sending him on edge.

The world swims in Cullen's vision, not in a shallow waters but in deep well that makes it really hard to see clearly. He blinks, and Dorian is still thrashing and sneering, eyes open but unseeing, completely swallowed by a demonic black. 

Cullen remembers, with a profound horror-- _dark_ _, harrowing, how dreadful, isn't it, how mages lose themselves to demons_ _?_  --and then the panic, the old hatred he had thrown away but never been able to forget, _do it away lest it possess more, destroy us all, it's a living bomb,_ _crush the abomination before it crushes us._

" _Cullen_!" someone shouts, muffled by the rush of blood in his ears. A pair of hands pulls him to the surface, forcing him to look (he doesn't want to). It's the Inquisitor. "Commander. Calm _down_."

The Commander remembers to breathe. "How was he possessed?" he asks. He sounds faraway to himself, too calm to be real. It probably isn't real. He wishes it weren't. "We need to get rid of the demon."

"Cullen..."

"It's been done before," Cullen snaps, angry that she should even consider giving up on him. Then he's appalled by his reaction. She's only trying to help, always trying to help. She must know the situation better than he. But can she feel the  _taint_ that covers Dorian's usual magic signature? The way it's been corrupted into something heinous. It's worse that he can still feel Dorian underneath that. "I...I apologize, Inquisitor. I don't mean..."

"That's unnecessary," the Inquisitor sighs, leading him away. "It's not that I don't want to help. Come with me. I'll tell you what we think happened."

**=o=O=o=**

In the end, the Inquisitor doesn't know precisely what happened either, despite being there.  

Cullen is certain that he will find a way around it. Around whatever this is. Dorian is strong, after all, and if he has yet to be overtaken by the demon, it has to mean something.

Rationally, it means nothing. Perhaps the demon is simply abiding its time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. But it  _has_ been done before, saving someone from possession. He's heard stories of the Arl of Redcliffe. The problem is that Cullen does not know  _how._

 _The cult was manipulating rifts, enthralled by the Fade. We found them near a particularly big one _. Or rather, they found us._ He struck a deal with a demon to get us out, I believe_.  _We don't know the details. But he saved us, Cullen._

If Dorian cannot be saved, then he must be killed before he transforms into an abomination, no longer distinguishable as a human. 

Cullen takes a deep breath. There must be a way.

On the bed, Dorian has stopped thrashing, lying unconscious now. There's a thin veneer of calm here, somewhere. Cullen holds on to his hand, which burns feverishly, and his regrets. 

Not regret for caring for this man, but regret that he isn't doing anything about his pain.

  **=o=O=o=**

 

> _Cullen,_ **  
> **
> 
> _No. You can't save him. Unless you want to kill him, or some other poor fellow._ _That's how the Warden did it, you know? Sacrificed a life. Made a deal with the demon or something._   _The kid disappeared a few years later._ _She loved sacrificing lives. Her own as well, in the end, like I wasn't willing to die for her._ _Stupid people always dying for stupid causes. Hah_ _. She'd probably hate what I've become. I know I do. Doesn't matter now, it's too late. Good luck._

Cullen stares at the uncharacteristically bitter letter for a while before he rips it to shreds. He can't abandon the Inquisition, nor the world, while it still needs him. Not even for Dorian. 

...

He'll have to speak with Cassandra.

****=o=O=o=****

Three nights after he starts taking lyrium again, Cullen finds himself dreaming in the Fade. He knows he's dreaming because he sees a despicable desire demon here, in the form of Dorian. 

Anyone with Templar training cannot be possessed. He doesn't know why this demon is even trying. It is a testament to Cullen's desperation, then, that he doesn't simply slay the demon in half.

"Cullen?" the demon asks, surprised and worried at once, brows creased. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be the one asking you."

"Well, I am obviously here because of the view. Lovely vacation spot, don't you think?"

The waves ebb and flow, crashing against the shore of the City of Chains. 

"Oh, you thought I meant that?" It laughs, sounding incredibly like Dorian. He waves a hand dismissively, and with it, Cullen can almost let himself breathe. Dorian's presence takes up all of this world, absorbing the light from everything else. He's so bright he's almost sparkling. "I meant  _you._ I do adore looking at you."

That lifts the edges of Cullen's lips up until he belatedly reminds himself that this is a demon. 

The demon's smile falters. It looks confused, lines on his face written in deject sadness. 

Cullen grimaces. "I'm sorry," he apologizes to Dorian, who is not here and cannot hear him. But here is better than nowhere, isn't it? 

It's...disgusting, Cullen thinks. Of him to pretend that this is Dorian. Of the demon to try and deceive him. 

The demon blinks, tilting its head. Sad. "Whatever for,  _amatus?_ "

**=o=O=o=**

"He's taking too much lyrium!"

"I can't convince him otherwise, Inquisitor. No one can. Not even you."

**=o=O=o=**

By day, Cullen is the Commander. He attends to matters all over Thedas, helping the Inquisitor prevent an assassination and whatnot. 

Dorian might have liked to go to the ball. He would have had everyone's eyes over him as he stole attention, strikingly dressed. Now that they cannot anymore, Cullen thinks he would've liked to dance with Dorian. He would've practiced, days before, for he never had the chance to dance before with the life he's led.

When he can, he visits Dorian's room, which is slowly gathering dust as time passes. While Dorian's yet to turn into a monstrous abomination, Cullen is anxious. Awaiting a reply from people well-versed in the Fade, searching for news of someone knowing how to reverse the process. They keep quiet that there's a possessed mage on Inquisition grounds. What jaws that news would drop. It'd amuse Dorian. Or perhaps he'd worry about Cullen's reputation, now that everyone seems to know he's mourning someone (not yet) lost.

 _An 'evil Tevinter magister', overtaken by a demon in the end_ , he'd say bitterly. _What a suiting way to go._

Cullen should know it's irreversible. (That thought used to soothe him, years ago. A last resort, killing mages. Now, not so much.)

Meanwhile, everyone is waiting and fearful of the inexorable.

By night, if he manages to remember hazy dreams only sharpened by the lyrium he takes, he meets Dorian. The demon that's pretending to be Dorian, that is. Cullen refuses to forget that. 

The demon tempts him, always trying to seduce him with hot smirks and dark eyes. He looks at Cullen like he's starving, smitten, everything he needs. 

Cullen is angry, frustrated, and he's fighting a losing battle. 

But he will not give up on Dorian. He won't give in to the demon, will not believe its bittersweet lies. The Fade is full of lies, and doesn't run on the same clock reality does. 

...

(Still. It's much too late now.) 

He will _not_ give up. 

 

**=o=O=o=**

It's Halward Pavus who comes to save Dorian after the world is saved from Corypheus. Many, many years have passed.

Cullen arches an eyebrow and asks the man who should be dead, "what can you possibly do for your son now?"

The man sighs tiredly. "I can die for him," he says, and if Cullen hates him for everything else he's done to Dorian, he feels grateful for this.

Cullen probably agrees a little too quickly. Magister Pavus smirks wryly.

Above them, a dove chirps melodically.

Dorian blinks open his eyes. Clear eyes, bright under the sun. He winces. 

"Good morning," Cullen greets. "Remember me?" The question is more serious than he likes to admit. 

Dorian grins. "How could I forget a handsome face like yours?" he inquires in return in a voice hoarse from disuse, and Cullen can finally breathe, leaning down to pull Dorian into a kiss. 

 

...

 

"Your breath reeks of deathroot soaked in dragon breath," Cullen coughs, wheezing, and Dorian laughs, tears in his eyes. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (whose side do you believe in?) 
> 
> i would love to hear what you guys think because honestly i'm not sure what I think 
> 
> come chat! my tumblr @evocamint


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